


In Your Hidden Grace

by kopperblaze



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Class Differences, Crossdressing, Dresses are great disguises, Historic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Monarchy, Newt is a Cinnamon Roll, Slow Burn, Torture, but also badass, h/c, percival in uniforms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9676547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: General Graves was a man of logic over heart. When he rescued Newt Scamander, who favoured heart over logic, his life was turned upside-down.Or: the one set in the 1800’s where Newt discovers that dresses make great disguises, Percival’s ordered life descends into chaos, and Grindelwald is an ambitious dickhead who tries to ruin everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is not going to be a 100% historically accurate representation of London in 1812. It's fanfic, so I'm taking some liberties ;) 
> 
> This is a shameless indulgence of some of my favourite tropes (class differences, secret relationships, historic monarchy AUs with intrigues and scandals, to name a few) and I hope you guys are going to enjoy it as well <3 
> 
> Not beta'ed, please excuse any mistakes.

* * *

General Graves was not a happy man, or so many would claim. He didn’t possess a naturally jolly disposition and his smiles were hard won, a scowl much quicker to appear on his lips. But General Graves was a fair man, loyal to the core and kind beneath his gruffness, as those close to him would attest without a second thought.

So when Percival Graves stepped out of his sister’s house, turning up the lapels of his coat against the biting cold and heard screams from an alley across the street, he marched over rather than walking away, as no doubt many others would’ve done.

“Leave him alone!” The desperate plea was followed by a dog barking and several angry cries. Percival sped up into a jog and rounded the corner just in time to see a burly man hitting a dog over the head before flinging it against a wall.

“No! Pickett!”

Behind him two others were cornering a fourth, pushing him against the brick wall and tugging on his clothes. The man seemed uncaring for his own predicament, his eyes fixed on the motionless form of the dog and struggling solely to get to its side.

“Now c’mon pretty, don’t be like that,” one of the man drawled, spinning his victim around and pressing him face first against the wall. He had quite a few stone on the young man, easily restraining his struggling from. A distressed noise finally jolted Percival into action and he stepped out of the shadows.

“What is going on here?” His voice cut through the commotion and momentary silence descended over the alley as three pairs of eyes turned to him, the young man still feebly struggling to escape his captor’s grip.

“None o’ yer business,” the man who had beaten the dog snarled, exposing a set of yellow, unkept teeth.

“That’s for me to decide,” Percival replied and stepped closer. He had left his sabre at home since technically he was off duty tonight, but his pistol in its holster was a reassuring weight against his chest. “I don’t think your advances are appreciated.”

“Fuck off!” The second man called, his voice like a grater.

Percival pulled his pistol from beneath his coat and trained it on the second man. “I’ll count to five and you better be out of my sight by then. One.”

The men glanced at each and shuffled their feet.

“Two.”

“‘e’s not worth it,” the first said with a shrug.

“Three.”

“Let’s go.”

“Four.” Percival’s arm never wavered.

“We’re going, we’re going!” The second man raised his arms in surrender before jerking his head. The third man pushed the lad he’d been holding down roughly and delivered a kick to his stomach before running off after his cronies. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones and Percival kept his gun trained on their retreating backs for a few moments longer before putting it away.

“Sir, are you-“

The young man scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to the dog, hunched over with an arm wrapped around his middle.

“Pickett?”

The dog whined softly and licked the man’s fingers. “You’re alright, nothing to worry about,” the man whispered and ran his hands carefully over the dog’s body, checking for injuries. His hair shone red where the faint light from the street lantern hit it. There was something pure about him, something young and naive that was sure to attract the wrong sort of people like moths to a flame.

“Sir, are you alright?” Percival asked, crouching down next to the lad and his dog. For a second expressive eyes met his and a jolt went through Percival. The gaze quickly averted and the man’s fringe hid his eyes from view as he looked down.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your help.” His voice was soft, the accent difficult to place. It wasn’t posh enough to belong in Elaine’s neighbourhood, nor was it harsh like the men’s had been. His posture remained closed off, like he was trying to curl himself around the dog, shielding it and making himself as small as possible. It triggered all of Percival’s protective instincts.

“What’s your name?”

Percival got another brief glimpse of those expressive eyes, a tongue darting out to wet chapped lips. “Newt. My name’s Newt.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Newt. I’m Percival. And your dog is called Pickett?”

Newt nodded, gently patting Pickett’s head. The little brown mutt had sat up by now and regarded Percival curiously.

“I’ll walk you home.” Percival got to his feet and put his pistol back in its holder.

“Oh, gosh, there’s no need, really.” Newt straightened up with a little wince, an arm still protectively held in front of his middle. Now that he stood Percival noticed his threadbare coat and the far too thin shirt he wore beneath it. His trousers were splattered with mud and his shoes had seen better days.

“It’s no bother.”

“No, really,” Newt shook his head. “It’s…just around the corner,” he mumbled, idly kicking the tip of his boot against a raised cobblestone. “I’ll be fine now. Thank you ever so much.” He flashed Percival a brief smile and whistled, Pickett jumping to his feet. There was no time for Percival to protest as Newt turned around and disappeared down another alley, Pickett yapping and running after him.

For a few heartbeats longer Percival stood rooted to the spot. With a shake of his head he turned around and sat off towards the palace. The wind picked up, not even Percival’s thick coat an effective shield against it, bitter cold settling in his bones. It smelt like it was going to snow.

***

Percival’s sleep was restless that night and when he woke up in the morning the world outside was covered in a thick blanket of white. From his bedroom on the first floor he had a view of the sprawling palace gardens, now transformed into a world of frost and snow. The chill seeped in through the glass of the window and Percival suppressed a shiver, thankful that the fire in the living room would already be going. Being General of Security and the Queen’s Guard had its perks.

When Percival emerged from his bedroom a few minutes later the fire was merrily crackling in the hearth and breakfast was laid out on the table.

“Good morning, Percy,” Tina smiled and poured him a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” Percival mumbled around a suppressed yawn. His cravat was still hanging loose around his neck and Tina stepped up to him with a frown. As opposed to himself his housekeeper was a morning person and her deft fingers tied the cravat with ease.

“Thank you.” Percival allowed her to smooth the shoulders of his waistcoat before he sat down. They had known each other for years, Tina working in the kitchens when Percival was still a cadet. He’d always been impressed by her and the way she didn’t hesitate to voice her opinion. When he’d returned from the war and Seraphina had made him General, giving him an apartment in the east wing of the castle, it hadn’t been a difficult decision who to bring in as his housekeeper. Under Tina’s hand the household ran smoothly, staff kept to a bare minimum because Percival didn’t need ridiculous things such as a valet to help him dress, he was perfectly capable of that himself thank you very much. Over the years their friendship had grown, Tina becoming part of the very small circle of people Percival trusted. Whenever there was a chance they’d have tea together, Tina amusing Percival with gossip from court or Percival ranting to her about a problem or another, asking her opinion. He valued her input and although many frowned about it, Percival supported her endeavours to educate herself, allowing her to attend public lectures at university and buying her books, taking her to the house of parliament. She had a keen interest in the law and oftentimes Percival had drawn on her knowledge when trying to settle a dispute.

“How’s Elaine? And little Elizabeth?” Tina asked, bustling around the room to rekindle the fire and water the flowers while Percival buttered a piece of toast and opened up the newspaper, which had been neatly folded next to his plate.

“They’re well,” he replied before taking a bite, studying the headlines. “Elaine sends her regards and wants to know if you’d like the accompany her to the market on Wednesday.”

“Sure. I’ll bring you back croissants from Kowalski’s.”

Percival hummed in appreciation and turned the page.

“Court is in order today, so don’t forget that you need to wear your formal coat. I’ve hung it by the door already.”

“Thank you, Tina,” Percival said absentmindedly, his attention caught by a short article about yet another arrest carried out on the orders of Archbishop Grindelwald.

***

Court sessions were always long and tedious and after five hours of standing Percival’s legs were aching and the cold had settled firmly in his bones. Today court was open to the public to bring their problems to the queen, and the line of petitioners seemed never-ending. Percival’s gaze swept through the room as yet another farmer brought a dispute over a patch of land to Queen Seraphina. His soldiers were positioned throughout the hall and Percival noted with satisfaction that none of them was slumping, all still standing to attention, surveying the crowd. His eyes eventually met that of Queenie, who sat in a chair slightly behind Seraphina’s throne. She had a pink shawl slung across her shoulders, matching the pink of her dress perfectly. Whereas Percival felt tired and uncomfortable, Queenie’s smile was as shining as ever and she winked at him. Standing to the right of Seraphina’s throne Percival was on display, so instead of pulling a face he quirked an eyebrow. He’d known Queenie almost as long as Tina, the blonde becoming one of Seraphina’s ladies-in-waiting when she had just turned seventeen, and she understood him effortlessly, biting down a giggle.

Turning his head to look back out over the crowd Percival felt a little warmer. His thoughts drifted and eventually landed on last night’s events, Newt’s eyes still vivid in his mind. Percival couldn’t explain it but something about the young man had grabbed his attention and now he wouldn’t leave his mind, the image of him hunched over his dog coming swimming to the forefront of his mind unbidden.

Percival wondered where Newt lived. He seemed a contradiction, with his soft spoken voice and his rough clothes. Percival only hoped Newt would stay away from the rougher parts of town. A lad like him was sure to attract trouble.

***

The snow brought a wet cough and a cold that ached in his bones. It started out with a tickle in the back of his mouth, but soon Newt’s throat felt open and raw, each swallow tearing on the flesh. It only got worse when the coughing started. Each breath rattled in his chest and Newt’s face felt hot, even as he shivered in the cold.

He dragged himself through the streets, Pickett worriedly trotting along and bumping his wet nose against Newt’s hand. He knew he should be talking to people, gathering information and forming a plan, but Newt found himself helplessly immobilised by sickness, losing track of time and all too aware of the minutes ticking by all the same. Every hour he lost was an hour longer Theseus had to spend in prison.

Along with his brother the soldiers had taken what little savings the Scamanders had. They had locked up the smithy as well, barricading the doors and windows. The neighbours were nosy enough that Newt didn’t dare to break in. There’d be no hope left at all if he got thrown into jail as well. It also meant that Newt had nowhere else to go. None of his friends wanted to put up the brother of a convict. At first he had managed to warm up inside pubs during the day, scratching together enough money for a cup of tea, but none of them would allow Pickett to come inside and Newt couldn’t bear to leave him out on the cold streets by himself. Especially not after what had happened the other night.

Newt swallowed and winced at the hot pain in his throat, slipping into a narrow alley behind a row of houses. There was a building there, barricaded up while the owners where away, and Newt sat down in the doorway. It provided at least a little shelter from the snow. Pulling his coat tighter around himself Newt pressed his back into the corner between door and wall and curled up. Pickett stepped onto his lap and turned around himself once before he lay down, pushing his nose under the lapels of Newt’s coat.

Snowflakes were leisurely drifting from the sky and Newt watched them through heavily-lidded eyes. Everything around him appeared hazy and his head felt too heavy for his neck to hold up.

“I’ll try and find you something to eat later,” Newt mumbled, slowly running his fingers through Pickett’s fur. At least his own stomach wasn’t grumbling for once, illness making him forget all about hunger. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Pickett, feeling a little like a snowflake himself as he drifted towards the darkness.

***

By Thursday Newt was still on Percival’s mind. Under the pretence of taking an after dinner walk Percival strolled from his sister’s house down the street and through the alley where he had rescued Newt a few days earlier. It was deserted tonight, the only sound that of the snow crunching beneath Percival’s boots. Unreasonably Percival felt something akin to disappointment and huffed about his own stupidity. What had he expected? He must be getting stupid in his old age.

There was nobody watching him, nobody aware of why he’d returned here, and yet Percival kept on walking so it wouldn’t seem to obvious that he had only wanted to check if Newt happened to be out on a walk as well. It was good that he was nowhere to be seen, Percival told himself. It meant that Newt was inside, somewhere warm and safe, and all his worries about the young man spending the bitterly cold nights out on the streets had been for naught. Perhaps Tina was right and Percival’s had a penchant for letting his thoughts wander in dramatic directions at times.

At least he had done his duty as a General and made sure the streets were peaceful. Percival was about to turn around and head home, when a low whine caught his attention. Scanning his surroundings his eyes found a dog hidden half in the shadows, watching Percival. After a second the animal leapt forward and Percival took a precarious step back. His hand was already reaching for his pistol when he realised that the dog wasn’t attacking him but had merely grabbed the hem of his coat with its teeth and was tugging gently on it. No longer hidden in the shadows Percival recognised the shaggy fur.

“Pickett?”

The dog let go off his coat and looked up at Percival, tongue lolling out.

“Good evening. Are you out all by yourself?” Percival asked, glad that nobody was around to witness him speaking to a dog. Pickett barked and took a few steps back.

“You run along then.”

Pickett barked once more, tripping towards Percival and back. An uneasy feeling settled in Percival’s stomach and he couldn’t help but think that Pickett wanted to tell him something. He took a step forward and Pickett barked twice.

“Fine, I’ll follow you.” Percival got his pistol out, just in case. It was ridiculous to think that a dog would lead him into an ambush, but Percival hadn’t survived a war and become General of the Queen’s Guard by believing in the good in the world around him.

Satisfied that he’d been understood Pickett turned and set off into a run, looking back every few metres to make sure that Percival was still behind him. They didn’t go far, Pickett slowing to a halt in a dark street. There was light streaming out from a few windows, but most houses were dark and still already.

Pickett climbed to stairs and sat down in front of a closed up house. If Percival recalled right it belonged to the Smiths, who Elaine had mentioned had gone to Paris for the season. He took the stairs slowly, evaluating his surroundings. All thoughts of a possible threat fled from Percival’s mind when a soft moan broke through the darkness. He hurried after Pickett and found Newt curled up against the front door of the house, shivering so violently his teeth were chattering.

“Newt?” Percival asked and went down on one knee, carefully putting his hand on Newt’s shoulder. No reaction. “Newt?” he asked again and shook the man. Newt’s eyes blinked open sluggishly but he looked right through Percival. His eyes were glassy and when Percival touched his forehead he found the skin burning with fever.

“Fuck,” Percival muttered and, as if he wanted to agree with the sentiment, Newt made a pained noise, his eyelids fluttering closed again. Percival’s thoughts spun and he forced himself to take an even breath. Newt very clearly had nowhere to go, so there was no use in bringing him to a doctor. Percival’s money would be good enough for them to treat Newt, but then he would be out in the cold again. There was only one thing to do if Percival didn’t want to leave the young man here, where a sure death by the hands of winter was waiting for him.

Percival pushed a hand under Newt’s knees, the other behind his back, and lifted him into his arms. He slowly rose to his feet, making sure he held Newt safely, before he descended the stairs. A displeased sound came over Newt’s lips before he rested his head against Percival’s shoulder, sagging in his arms. Pickett’s claws clacked against the cobblestones. They had to make quite the picture, a soldier carrying a man in his arms and a dog running alongside him.

The way to the palace stretched out longer than usual, Newt’s weight growing in Percival’s arms with each step he took. Pressing his lips together Percival thought that he had no right to complain —it was his own fault that he found himself in this situation, what Elaine called his ‘helper complex’ having compelled him to go out looking for Newt.

“We’re almost there, you’ll be feeling better in no time,” Percival murmured when Newt grew restless in his arms. The lights of the palace were looming up ahead and Percival thanked the stars for the secret entrance to his quarters that would enable them to get in unseen. Hoisting Newt up a little higher in his arms Percival quickened his steps before he had too much time to question what exactly it was he was getting himself involved in here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your lovely comments on the first chapter! As always, they absolutely make my day and I appreciate each and every one of them <3 
> 
> Here's chapter two, I hope you'll like it! I'm not a native, and I'm constantly striving to improve my English and my writing, so any feedback is very welcome!
> 
> Also, on a side note, Percival's uniform and Newt's clothing are inspired by French fashion at the time, rather than British, simply because I like it better than the puffy breeches and ruffles of the Elizabethan time. No much is historically accurate in this story, forgive me.

* * *

The darkness around him was soft and warm and with a sigh Newt curled deeper into its comfort. He remembered snatches of dreams, snowflakes falling and the smell of cologne, a rumbling voice in his ear. Theseus had often made fun of Newt and his vivid dreams.

 

_You’ve got your head in the clouds, little brother._

 

Theseus’ voice echoed through the darkness and Newt spun around, trying to locate him. Something shifted in the air and the darkness became cloying, sticking in his nose and glueing his eyes shut. Newt tried to call for his brother, but no sound left his throat and slime covered the inside of his mouth. He stumbled and the world spun around him until he couldn’t tell up from down, down from up, falling face first into oblivion.

***

Newt twisted in the sheets and moaned, his eyes flicking behind his eyelids. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and his deathly pallor had given way to flushed skin. Percival dipped a square of cloth in water and wiped Newt’s forehead.

 

“Go to bed, I can stay with him.” Tina said and attempted to snatch the cloth from Percival’s fingers.

 

“I brought him here, so he’s my responsibility.” It would hardly be fair to have Tina stay with Newt when it was Percival’s consciousness that had made him bring the man back here. He’d already asked Tina to lie for him, and tell Doctor Godric that Newt was Percival’s new valet, that they hadn’t known of his illness because he’d been visiting family in town.

 

“Your sense of responsibility and duty is overdeveloped.” Tina sat down on the edge of the bed with a huff, tucking a curl of hair back behind her ear. “Poor guy.” She studied Newt’s face. The displeasure she’d exuded when Percival had emerged from the hidden door behind the panel in the front room with the man slung across his shoulders now replaced by a soft frown. “I wonder what his story is.”

 

“I suppose we’ll find out eventually.” Percival loosened his cravat and drew the back of his hand over his forehead. It was stifling hot in the room and shadows danced across the wall in the light of the flickering flames. Doctor Godric had diagnosed a bronchitis, bordering on pneumonia, and ordered bedrest for Newt, advising them to keep him warm and encourage him to sweat it out over night.

 

“You really know how to pick them.”

 

Percival caught Tina’s little smirk and averted his gaze, trying very hard to look nonchalant.

 

“Talk about bringing home stray dogs.” Tina’s voice danced with laughter as she petted Pickett, who had curled up at the foot of the bed. One of his ears twitched up like he knew they were talking about him.

 

“I couldn’t have left them.” Percival wasn’t sure if he said it for Tina’s sake or his own. Why had he taken Newt home? The question kept spinning on his mind. Percival was a man driven by logic, rarely a man driven by heart. He could’ve taken Newt to the nearest hospital and washed his hands and conscious clean. But there was something about the redhead that called out to him, as if part of Percival’s soul recognised something familiar in Newt.

 

“Stop it, you’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache.” Tina scolded. “You did the right thing. And besides, I’ve been telling you that you need a valet for months.” She winked at Percival and got to her feet. “I’ll make us more tea.”

 

Percival mumbled his thanks and busied himself with wiping Newt’s face again. His movements were slow, shoulders and arms sore from the exertion of carrying Newt earlier, his eyelids weighed down by tiredness. A yawn split his mouth and Percival leaned back in the armchair he’d pulled up to the bed. He was only going to close his eyes for a few seconds, until Tina returned with the tea. Only for a few seconds.

 

He had barely finished the thought before he fell asleep.

***

Newt drifted towards wakefulness. He felt hot and sweaty, his clothes plastered to him. When he attempted to move and escape the heat, Newt found that he couldn’t. His body was held in place by a weight on top of him. Swallowing still hurt and his chest felt like it’d been scraped out with a spoon, hollow and brittle.

 

Newt coughed weakly and fought to blink his eyes open. His head felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton and it took Newt a good while to realise that he wasn’t in his old room at home. His bed didn’t have a canopy, for starters, and his mattress was lumpy and flat, not plush and soft. Newt’s heart began to hammer violently in his chest and he struggled to free his arms from under the heavy blankets and sit up.

 

“Good morning,” a woman’s voice whispered. A second later the woman came into view, bending over Newt. She was pretty in an average way, but her brown eyes shone with warmth and the bend of her neck was long and graceful.

 

“What-“ Newt croaked and swallowed against the thickness of his throat. The woman put a hand in his neck and helped him raise his head, holding a cup to his lips. The water slid down his throat and soothed his hot insides like a cool river. Newt drank greedily, uncaring that some of the water spilt down over his chin, or that this woman could be feeding him poison. When she pulled the cup away he gasped, and his head rolled back against the pillows.

 

“General Graves found you outside and brought you here because you’re very sick,” the woman explained. Newt pushed into her touch when she ran a cool cloth over his forehead.

 

“My name is Tina.”

 

“N-Newt,” Newt croaked out, wishing the water had cleared the fog from his mind. Who was General Graves? Where had he found him and why had he brought him here? Where was ‘here’ anyway?

 

An enthusiastic yap broke Newt’s spiral of questions and his lips widened into a smile as Pickett scuttled up the bed and licked his face. At the sight of his dog a knot unraveled in Newt’s chest, making it marginally easier to breathe.

 

“You’re lucky the General found you, your bronchitis is bordering on pneumonia.” Tina wrung the cloth out over a small basin on the nightstand and dabbed Newt’s forehead again.

 

“But why-“ Newt coughed and his chest ached.

 

“He’s got a bit of a helper complex, between the two of us.” Tina whispered and winked at Newt. “I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, or him, but you’re save here. And you’re free to leave at any time, though we’d prefer it if you stayed until you’re somewhat healthy again. Otherwise we’ll be feeling guilty for the rest of our days.”

 

Newt carded his fingers through Pickett’s fur, working out a few knots. He’d always been one to believe in the good in people, no matter how much ridicule from his peers, and worried scolding from Theseus it had brought him. Now was not the time to start questioning people’s intentions, not when Newt’s nose was stuffy, his throat on fire and his limbs made of lead. The room was warm, and the bed was cosy, and if the General and Tina had some nefarious plan to kill Newt in his sleep, at least he’d die under comfortable circumstances.

 

Tina said something else, but her voice faded into the background as Newt pushed his face into Pickett’s fur, taking comfort from his dog curled up next to him on the pillow. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled under.

 

The next time he woke, milky light streamed in through the large windows of the room. He felt a little less bleary, a little more alert, and the sweat had dried on his body. Pushing himself up onto his elbows Newt winced in discomfort, struggling to swallow against his swollen throat. The room was decked out in shades of blue, everything appearing soft and blurry in the pale morning light. He thought he was alone at first, but then his gaze settled on a figure sleeping in an armchair next to the bed.

 

Long legs clad in dark blue breeches and black, polished boots stretched out in front of the man, his chin tucked against his chest. Even sleeping in a chair, with his hair messily framing his face, he looked put together. Studying his face more closely, Newt’s heart gave a hard beat as he recognised him as the man who had helped him a few days ago. What had he said his name was? Percival? Was Percival also the General? It would explain the air of authority with which he’d carried himself the other night, the stance of a man used to giving orders, not receiving them.

 

Newt rubbed his thumb and pointer finger in circles over the space between his eyebrows. All these unanswered questions made his head feel even heavier.

 

“Pickett, do you know where we are?” He whispered. Pickett raised his head and looked at Newt before yawning widely and resting his head back between his paws. With a sigh Newt shifted. He caught sight of a carafe of water on the nightstand along with a cup (fine white porcelain with delicate blue flowers on it — did the room come with matching crockery?) and became painfully aware of his chapped lips and parched throat. Raising himself up a little more, and struggling to push the heavy comforters down, Newt reached out, only to find the cup empty. His stomach sank. Already his arm was shaking and Newt didn’t think he had the strength to lift the carafe and pour himself some water. It was cruel that he got to look at the full pitcher, imagining the phantom coolness of the drink, but didn’t get to have it.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Newt jerked and clenched his fingers around the mug in his hands. Percival –the General– sat up in the armchair and ran a hand through his hair, blinking sleepy eyes at Newt. Most likely not many people got to see him like this, softened by sleep, and Newt’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, rubbing his thumb over the smooth surface of the cup.

 

“Good morning.” His voice came out a miserable croak and Newt rubbed at his throat and grimaced. The General pushed up from the chair and walked over, gently extricating the cup from Newt’s fingers and handing it back to him once he’d filled it with water.

 

“Careful.” he murmured and cupped Newt’s hand when it shook. His palm was warm and his fingers calloused, his hold steady and sure. There were smudges beneath his eyes, the kind that spoke of a night of ill rest.

 

When Newt had greedily drank down the water the General replaced the cup on the nightstand and felt Newt’s forehead.

 

“Your fever seems to have gone down.” he said with a smile and for a second Newt lost himself in the warmth of the man’s eyes, before he shook himself out of his stupor. A little fever and he went all starry-eyed over a stranger, how embarrassing.

 

“Yes, uhm.” Newt stuttered and pushed his head back against the headrest of the bed to keep himself from following the General’s hand when he pulled it away. “T-Thank you. You…had no obligation to help me.”

 

“Maybe not.” the General replied. “No obligation, but a duty as a human being. Besides, I’m sure your dog would’ve mauled me otherwise.” His gaze danced with mirth as he looked at Pickett, who pretended to be asleep but was very clearly listening, as his twitching ears indicated.

 

“Oh dear.” Newt hid his blush behind his hands. “I apologise on his behalf.”

 

“Don’t.” the General shook his head. “He saved your life.”

 

When Newt dropped his hands he found the General patting Pickett’s side affectionately and the dog rolled over, presenting his belly and stretching leisurely.

 

“I’m feeling much better.” Newt said despite the fact that he still felt uncomfortable and weak. “I won’t trouble you longer. Though…” he plucked the covers of the duvet between his fingers. “I don’t know how to repay you. I have no money, but I’m a good labourer. Give me a day or two and I can help you with whatever you need help with.” His breathing came fast, the little speech having winded him. Newt’s lungs weren’t working like they used to.

 

The General shook his head and gave Pickett’s belly a final rub before stepping back. “You may stay for as long as you like, but there is no need for you to repay me. Get healthy, that’ll be payment enough.” He poured another cup of water and sat it within easy reach of Newt. “Though there is a position as my valet open, if you want it.” The words were spoken casually, like an after-thought, and Newt almost choked on his spit. Only very rich people had valets.

 

“I…if you don’t mind me asking, where am I?” He asked.

 

“Mh? Oh, you’re at Ilvermorny Palace. The East Wing, to be precise.” General Graves replied as he sat about rekindling the fire, unconcerned about the ash and soot he was getting on the sleeves of his white shirt.

 

Newt’s heart hammered in his chest. Suddenly he had more reason to stay than just the kind eyes of a stranger.

***

“Have you read the paper today?”

 

Percival ran a hand down the front of his uniform, hoping to dislodge any remaining crumbs sticking to the fabric. He’d overlooked the time this morning and Tina had handed him two slices of buttered bread on his way out the door, which Percival had gracelessly stuffed into his mouth as he hurried to the queen’s chambers.

 

“No, I’m afraid I had no time.”

 

Behind her desk Seraphina frowned. She looked like something out of a painting, sitting in her chair with the light streaming in through the high windows behind her. Diamonds sparkled in her hair whenever she moved her head and they caught the light, and the simple blue dress she wore did nothing to diminish her regal appearance.

 

She held out the newspaper for Percival.

 

“My dear _cousin’s_ adopted boy is now one of Grindelwald’s altar servers.”

 

“Bless.” Percival snorted and quickly scanned the article praising the work of Princess Mary Lou and his holiness Archbishop Grindelwald, saving and sheltering the poor. Percival’s right eyelid twitched in irritation.

 

“She’s a thorn in my side, Percival.” Seraphina scoffed, not bothering to keep up poise and decorum around him. They’d known each other long enough that behind closed doors they removed the cloak of queen and soldier. “She makes herself out to be the holy mother of the nation.”

 

“And yet you are queen, and adored by your people.” Percival folded the newspaper and laid it down on the desk. “Don’t pay her petty little schemes any mind.”

 

“Her petty little schemes put my cousin in an early grave.” Seraphina hissed and Percival was reminded why even the most powerful men in the country feared her. She was a sight to behold with her lips pursed in disdain and her eyes dancing with fury. It had never been made official, and there was no evidence, but behind closed doors and held up hands people at court whispered about Prince Ephraim having been poisoned by his wife. The deeply religious Mary Lou had played the role of the devastated widow well, involving herself in the business of the church and adopting children out of orphanages left and right, endearing herself to the common folk and quite a few of the courtiers.

 

“And saved him from a lifetime with her.” Percival replied, drawing a scoffing laugh from Seraphina.

 

“I suppose anything is preferable to living with Mary Lou. Why he married that beast in the first place is beyond me.”

 

They’d discussed it often enough, long nights of Seraphina ranting and raving. Before the wedding Mary Lou had presented herself as the perfect bride, common-faced and plain, but caring and motherly. Ephraim had found her suitable enough a wife to appease his parents, while continuing to live his life as he had before — drinking the nights away and spending weeks at a time in his hunting lodge up in Scotland. But once the rings had been exchanged and the vows spoken, Mary Lou had slowly taken off the mask of the demure wife and revealed her true nature. She took over the household and the finances, keeping Ephraim on a short leash and giving his money to the church. Their arguments had been loud and violent, and more than once Ephraim had stormed into Seraphina’s chambers howling about “that holy bitch wasting my money on saving our souls!”

 

“I wish I could have someone slit her throat at night.” Seraphina sighed with a dreamy look on her face, making Percival snort.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not appropriate for the Queen.”

 

“Of course it’s not, that’s why I’d get someone else to do it for me.” The little grin on Seraphina’s face was razor-sharp.

 

“God save the Queen.” Percival laughed. Seraphina’s humour was one of the things he liked most about her. She often whispered witty little comments to him in court, keeping a straight and friendly face, even as insults that’d make most grown men blush fell from her lips.

 

“I’m sure the Archbishop takes a different stance on that.” Seraphina said and rolled her eyes before sitting up straighter in her chair again. “Enough of those unpleasant matters. The Duke of Edinburgh is coming down for a visit and I wanted to talk with you about security matters.”

 

The longer their meeting lasted, the more trouble Percival had keeping his thoughts from straying. He found himself wondering repeatedly how Newt was doing, if his fever had returned, or if he was faring better. He consoled himself with the fact that Tina was looking after the young man, no doubt cooking up a chicken soup by her mother’s recipe that she swore had healing powers. Sometimes, with the way Tina used herbs and spices, and Queenie could guess people’s thoughts, Percival was almost tempted to call the Goldstein sisters witches.

***

The apartment was quiet when Percival returned that night after having seen the Queen safely to her chambers. He removed his sabre from his belt and shrugged out of his uniform jacket on his way to the blue room. Reaching the door Percival hesitated for a second, wondering if he should knock. Although it was his own house he decided that it was only decent and rapped his knuckles against the wood, waited a second, and then pushed the door open. The room was warm and inviting, bathed in the soft glow of the firelight. In the bed Newt sat propped up against the pillows with a book in his lap. Beneath his messy fringe his eyes were still bright, but not burning with fever anymore. The tip of his nose was rather red and he was breathing through his mouth. He looked altogether adorable and Percival shut the door on that stream of thought quickly.

 

“‘ood evening.” Newt said in a thick voice. He reached out for a handkerchief and blew his nose, making the skin around it even redder.

 

“Good evening. How are you doing, Newt?” Percival asked and sat down in the armchair by the bed.

 

“Be’er.” Newt replied and sniffed, rubbing his nose. “Tina has taken Pickett for a walk.”

 

“Ah.” That explained her absence. Leaning forward in the chair Percival felt Newt’s forehead, finding it warm but not hot to the touch. Newt twisted his fingers in the blankets.

 

“How was your day? I hope you rested and got to enjoy Tina’s chicken soup?”

 

“Oh, yes, yes I did.” Newt nodded and smiled. “It was very good. Though either you eat like an elephant, or Tina has no idea what constitutes a normal serving.”

 

Percival blinked. It took him a moment to realise that need Newt had made a joke, but when it clicked he laughed out loud and found a pleased little curl of Newt’s lips in return.

 

“Tina has no idea what a normal serving is.” Percival winked. “And I suppose she felt the need to feed you extra.”

 

Newt’s smile turned embarrassed and Percival’s hand twitched with the need to reach out and cup his cheek.

 

“How…how was your day, General?” He asked and his gaze flitted to Percival, before settling back on the book in his lap, like he wasn’t sure if he’d overstepped a boundary by asking a question of his own.

 

“Long and tedious. And please, call me Percival.”

 

Newt’s blush intensified as he nodded. Percival found that bringing colour to Newt’s cheeks was quickly becoming one of his favourite pastimes.

 

“What are you reading?”

 

Newt closed the book, his pointer finger marking the page, and held it up for Percival to see. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare.”

 

“Is it any good?” Percival sank a little lower in the chair and made himself comfortable. He vaguely recalled the last performance of one of Shakespeare’s plays at the palace. Tina had liked it, Queenie had loved it and Percival had struggled not to fall asleep, which wasn’t an indicator of the performance’s quality so much as a consequence of too much drink the night before.

 

“I think it is,” Newt said, fiddling with the book in his lap. “I’ve only read two of his plays before and I’ve always enjoyed them. I planned on seeing one of the performances at the Globe, but–” he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. “Things happened.”

 

Percival hummed and decided to make no further comment on the matter, since it didn’t seem like Newt was comfortable to talk about it. He did make a mental note however to take him along to one of the performances at the palace, should Newt decide to stay. It was strange, they’d scarcely known each other for more than a day and yet Percival felt a connection with Newt. It almost seemed like fate that they’d met – if one believed in that sort of thing.

***

Newt spent his days in bed and devoured any book Tina brought him from Percival’s extensive library. By the end of the week his health was much improved and Percival knew that the man favoured Shakespeare over Marlowe, and enjoyed Spencer’s poems. He sounded like a scholar when he talked about the texts, which added to the list of things about Newt that didn’t make sense. Why had such a well-educated man been living in the streets? Percival was still waiting for an appropriate moment to ask Newt about his past.

 

By Saturday Newt was well enough to walk around the apartment and join Tina and Percival for afternoon tea in the living room. By Sunday he seemed incapable of sitting still, a buzzing energy in the air around him and Percival decided that the man had been coped up inside for long enough. Newt had voiced his wish to stay here and take the offered position as Percival’s valet and Sunday mass seemed like a good opportunity to introduce the newest member of Percival’s household.

 

Tina miraculously managed to find a jacket for him. It was a rather vivid shade of blue, complimenting Newt’s hair and complexion. Together with the white shirt Newt had been wearing —now freshly washed and ironed— a brown waistcoat, and a black pair of Percival’s breeches, held up by a belt, Newt looked the part. His scruffy boots were a problem, but there was nothing to be done about that now. Percival made a mental note send for the tailor and the cobbler first thing tomorrow morning.

 

Pouring himself another cup of coffee Percival thought that he really didn’t want to waste an hour of his life in church.

 

“Stop looking like you’re headed to your own execution.” Tina laughed as she looked up from her attempt to tame Newt’s hair.

 

“I might as well be.” Percival groaned and finished the last of his coffee. “Listening to Grindelwald’s drivel for over an hour makes me want to cut my ears off.”

 

Newt flinched and Tina patted his shoulder. “Don’t listen to him. He’s not going to cut his ears off, and mass isn’t all that bad.”

 

“I suppose it isn’t when you get to sit at the back with your friends and gossip about people.” Percival sent a half-hearted glare at Tina, who only smiled innocently in return.

 

After a quick glance at the clock Percival fastened the buttons of his jacket and tugged on the sleeves, straightening the cuffs. “I should get going. I will see you later.”

 

“Try and resist the urge to cut your ears off.” Tina called after Percival.

***

The Queen and her ladies-in-waiting resembled a flock of doves as they entered the church in their white dresses, the crowd parting for them. Percival took his place on the right-side wall, facing the pews. That way he had Seraphina in his direct line of sight and an overview of the church behind her. He watched as people trickled in and took their seats. Princess Mary Lou sat down a few rows behind the queen, flanked by two young girls on either side. Percival watched her for a few moments. She had her hands clasped and her head bowed, and he uncharitably though that even though she pretended to pray she was probably plotting new ways to enrage Seraphina.

 

The church bells rung out and a hush fell over the crowd as members of the clergy walked down the aisle. A young boy shuffled in front of the Archbishop, and Percival figured he was one of Mary Lou’s many orphans. His dark hair was cut in a rather unflattering shape and the way he hunched his shoulders, trying to appear as small as possible, made him look like the lamb being lead to its slaughter. Percival frowned and wondered if it was nerves at his first service as an altar boy, or something else entirely, that made the boy look so haunted.

 

Compared to the simple vestments of the altar boys, the Archbishop himself was clad in rich burgundy and gold. He carried himself with arrogance and like he was one of the Apostle’s come to life again. Grindelwald never missed a chance to remind the common folk that he was closer to God than any of them could ever hope to be.

 

The last ring of the bells vibrated through the air and faded out. The silence lasted for mere seconds before it was broken by Grindelwald.

 

“Almighty God, to whom all desires are known, we are gathered here today…”

 

His droning voice soon turned into background noise for Percival as he let his gaze wander around the church, taking note of who was in attendance. He spotted Tina at the back, heads together with Joanne, one of the kitchen maids, no doubt exchanging the latest gossip. Next to her Newt sat ramrod straight, his red hair shining like a beacon where the light from the windows hit it. His eyes were fixed on the Archbishop and he wore an expression of such hatred that it stole Percival’s breath away. He hadn’t thought Newt, sweet, shy, friendly, Newt capable of such an expression and it looked wrong on his face, like an ill-fitting mask.

 

Percival coughed in a vain attempt to dislodge the knot that had formed in his chest. It was high time he found out what Newt’s story was, prying be damned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many questions... some shall be answered in the next chapter! ;) 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick, so this is not as long (and not as good) as I wanted it to be, but I couldn't end Sunday without an update. As always, thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos, they warm my heart and make me the happiest kitten in the world <3

* * *

They took Pickett for a walk in the sprawling palace gardens after church.

“So what did you think of the sermon?” Percival asked as he watched Tina picking up sticks and throwing them for Pickett, who darted off at high speed to fetch them.

“It was very…interesting.” Newt pulled on the sleeves of his coat. In daylight it looked even shabbier than Percival remembered, and he mentally added a new one to the list of things Newt needed from the tailor.

“Interesting is a very polite word for it.” Percival chuckled. He glanced over at Newt and noted the man’s tense posture, a sadness hunching him over that hadn’t been there before. “I take it you are not a friend of the Archbishop?”

Newt’s shoulders pulled up even higher and he bit his bottom lip. “I…well…that is to say…”

“I hold no respect for that man, so don’t hesitate to criticise him in my presence.” Percival said even though he had to admit that he did enjoy the way Newt blushed and fumbled for words.

“Oh. Good. I mean. That’s…good to know.” Newt mumbled, stumbling over his words. It was clear that he wasn’t comfortable with the topic. It was a painful reminder that Percival knew next to nothing about Newt, that he had allowed a stranger into his life and his home with maybe too little consideration. “You didn’t look very happy to see him.”

Newt’s blush deepened and Percival thought that he ought to start counting how many different shades of red he could make Newt go.

“Was it that obvious?” Newt rubbed the back of his neck.

“Just a little.” Percival couldn’t help but chuckle and Newt ducked his head. “Look, I don’t want to force you to tell me anything, but apart from ensuring the palace’s safety, I’d also like to know more about you, since you’re a member of my household now.”

The gravel crunched beneath their boots and in front of them Tina laughed at Pickett’s antics. Percival looked ahead, his hands linked behind his back. He wasn’t going to press the matter unnecessarily, but in his experience silence was the best way to get people talking. From the corner of his eyes he saw Newt press his lips together.

“Hehadmybrotherthrowninjail.” The words came rushing out of Newt’s mouth, sticking together. It took Percival a second to untangle them and his eyebrows raised.

“On what charges?”

“Murder.” Newt scoffed and sent a few pebbles flying when he kicked the tip of his boot into the gravel. Percival’s stomach tightened and he turned to look at Newt.

“Murder?”

Newt nodded, looking much like he had in church, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched tightly. “A prostitute was murdered near our house and they took Theseus in for it. It’s completely ridiculous, of course. I think…” He took a deep breath. “I think Theseus knew something. About Grindelwald. He told me he needed to tell me something, that he’d run into Grindelwald and a woman in one of the pub’s backrooms, but I was late for a lecture so we agreed to talk later. When I came home in the afternoon they’d already arrested him.”

Percival fought to keep his expression under control. He’d been trying to find incriminating information about Grindelwald for _years_.

“I’ve been trying to find proof that he’s been wrongly accused, but.” Newt shrugged in defeat.

“But nobody wants to cross the Archbishop.” Percival finished for him. “I understand. Do you know where they took him?”

“The Tower.”

Percival tried not to wince. The Tower held London’s worst criminals and Percival didn’t want to add to Newt’s worry by letting shine through just how horrible conditions there were. “I’ll see what I can do.” At the very least it would be interesting to see what Newt’s brother had to say about the Archbishop.

Newt’s head snapped up and he looked at Percival with wide eyes, like he hadn’t expected a reaction like this. “You…really? You’re not going to ask me to leave?”

“Why would I do that?” Percival asked, struggling to follow Newt’s line of thought.

“Because my brother is a murderer?”

“You just said he was wrongly accused?” Percival pointed out, replaying their conversation in his head. No, he definitely hadn’t misunderstood that.

“Yes, but most people don’t believe me when I say that.” Newt’s gaze was fixed on the path again, his hair falling over his forehead and hiding his eyes. “Our landlord kicked me out once he heard and nobody wanted to employ me anymore. They asked me to leave university as well, not allowing me to attend any lectures anymore.”

That, at last, explained why an intelligent and well-spoken man like Newt had been living on the streets. Percival knew it was wrong, but he felt better knowing that Newt came from a seemingly somewhat well-off family.

“What about your parents?”

“They’re dead.” Newt mumbled. It seemed to be a sore topic judging by the way he hunched into himself even more, so Percival let it go.

“Even if your brother was a murderer, it wouldn’t condemn you in my eyes. His actions are his alone and not yours. You needn’t worry about your employment with me, there is a place for you in my household for as long as you want.”

“Thank you.” The open vulnerability in Newt’s face tugged on Percival’s heart and he quickly looked away, thankful when Tina came up to them. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing and a few strands of hair had come loose, curling around her ears. Next to her Pickett was panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“You two look about done.” Percival noted, smiling when Pickett licked Newt’s hand. “Let’s head back.”

He let Tina’s easy chatter fill the silence on the way back, the wheels in his mind spinning as he contemplated how to deal with the matter of Newt’s brother.

***

“Should I draw you a bath?”

Percival looked up from his book, eyebrows drawn together as he wondered if he had developed a hearing problem.

“Pardon me?”

Newt shifted awkwardly in the doorway and cleared his throat.

“I was wondering if I should draw you a bath.”

No hearing problem then. Percival closed the book and shifted forward a little in his chair. “And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m your valet?” It came out as a question rather than a statement. Newt bit his bottom lip, rocking softly from his heels to his toes and back. “And Tina said you like to bathe in the evenings because you’d rather sleep a little longer in the mornings.”

Percival fought to keep his face under control but couldn’t help his left eyelid twitching slightly. It irked him that Tina had shared such information with Newt. Then again, a valet should probably know these things, so Percival could hardly blame her just because he felt that this was a rather private matter.

“I’m very capable of drawing my own baths.”

Newt started to shake is head while Percival was still speaking. “Of course you are, but that’s part of my job.”

There was an edge to Newt’s voice and Percival bit down his reply. While it didn’t matter to Percival, it probably felt like he wasn’t earning his keep for Newt.

“A bath sounds like a good idea, thank you.” He’d walked back from Elaine’s after dinner and the chill hadn’t yet completely left his bones, despite the fact that Percival had been reading in front of the fire for a while now.

“I’ll get everything ready.” Newt’s smile was contradicted by his tense posture as he turned and walked away. Percival let his head fall back against the headrest of the chair and sighed, asking himself for the umpteenth time what he had gotten himself into. 

***

The moment Percival stepped into the bathroom he realised that he hadn’t thought this through. At all. The air inside the room was hot and moist, steam rising from the bronze bathtub. Newt had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and the muscles flexed beneath his skin as he poured another bucket of water into the bath. His hair curled and stuck to his forehead in damp strands and his cheeks had taken on a healthy pink colour. Percival’s mouth went dry at the sight of him. He’d been aware of Newt’s unconventional handsomeness from the moment he met him, but Percival had learnt to ignore such thoughts long ago. As Head of the Queen’s Guard he hardly had the time for matters of the heart, much less the kind that could cause a scandal and cost him everything.

But Newt looked soft and ethereal in the candlelight and there was no possible way for Percival not to acknowledge it–he wasn’t that strong a man.

“I put another bucket over the fire, in case the water isn’t hot enough or goes cold too quickly.”

Percival nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet, and turned away from Newt, loosening his cravat.

“Thank you, Newt.” Looking at the wall Percival managed to sound normal.

“Should I help you with your clo-“

“No.” Percival barely managed not to clutch the front of his shirt closed. He cleared his throat. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine on my own from here.” Reminding himself that he was, in fact, a soldier and not a blushing maiden, Percival turned around again and gave Newt a strained smile.

“Of course.” Newt nodded, looking at Percival’s boots rather than at his face. The tips of his ears were red and Percival didn’t think it was because of the heat in the room. “I’ll…be outside. Call if you need anything.” Before Percival could say anything else Newt hastened from the room.

Percival took a moment to compose himself before he stripped, laying his clothes out methodically on the chair in the corner. He tried very hard not to let his thoughts stray back to Newt as he sunk into the hot water with a sigh. It eased the tension in his muscles and Percival’s shoulders dropped, his eyes closing. As he inhaled a faint scent of lavender and lemon tickled his nose and Percival sunk lower into the water until it lapped at his chin. The scent was soothing and combined with the hot water and the quiet in the room Percival’s thoughts drifted. He thought about Elizabeth’s upcoming birthday and what present to get his niece, and his schedule for the next week. Inevitably his mind wandered back to Newt, who’d become part of Percival’s life so quickly and effortlessly. He’d barely been here for a week and yet Percival felt like it had been much longer. He wasn’t one to become involved in the personal affairs of other people, but instead of pushing him away the story of Newt’s brother drew Percival in even further. He was going to do his best to help.

In the privacy of the hazy bathroom Percival admitted to himself that he wasn’t doing it solely out of the goodness of his heart, or to get some dirt on Grindelwald. He was doing it to coax a smile from Newt, one of the wide, unguarded ones that made his heart skip a beat. Maybe he’d even impress the man a little.

With a groan Percival sank under the water, like it would wash his selfish thoughts away. When he reemerged he wiped his hands over his face and slicked his hair back, blinking the drops clinging to his lashes away. He was Newt’s employer, maybe his friend somewhen in the future, and he wasn’t going to mess that up.

***

Newt poked at the fire for the fifth time in the past minute. It was crackling away merely and chased the chill from the bedroom. Percival’s bedroom. Newt bit his bottom lip and stared into the dancing flames. As opposed to his room, everything in here was made of dark wood and rich burgundy. It was comfortable and inviting and, well, _Percival’s_ room. The thought made Newt blush all over again, which was ridiculous. He had to get used to being here as part of his job. He was here to work, not for anything else.

When the door to the adorning bathroom opened Newt jumped to his feet and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor, studying the texture of the carpet.

“Oh, you’re still here.”

Newt involuntarily pulled his shoulders up. Was Percival upset that he had come in here?

“Y-yes, I was seeing to the fire and I didn’t know if you’d require anything else.” Tina had warned Newt that Percival was most likely going to be picky about the tasks he wanted and didn’t want Newt to take on. Percival’s naked feet came into view as he stepped into the room and Newt swallowed, unable to stop his gaze from straying further up. Percival’s dressing gown came down to mid-calf, exposing shapely, strong legs. There wasn’t anything scandalous about the sight, they were just legs, and yet Newt felt like he’d barged in on Percival naked.

“I’ll be fine, honestly. I can put myself to bed.” Percival laughed and Newt struggled not to blush even harder because his treacherous mind went to dangerous places.

“O-of course, I didn’t mean…I…uh.”

“How about we sit down tomorrow night and talk about the things I require you to do?” Percival’s hand settled on Newt’s shoulder, and his body leaned into the touch without Newt’s agreement.

“That would be good, I suppose.” He mumbled and glanced up. Percival’s hair hung in damp strands around his face, not styled to perfection for once, and he looked relaxed, like the bath had softened the lines of his face.

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.” Percival lightly squeezed Newt’s shoulder before he walked past him.

“Goodnight.” Newt mumbled and made for the door, but stopped and looked over his shoulder when Percival called him.

“Oh and Newt? I don’t need help getting dressed in the morning.”

Newt nodded and quickly exited the room, Percival’s lips quirked in amusement playing on his mind.

***

It was the middle of the day and yet it was dark as night in the Tower, which added to the uneasy feeling in Percival’s stomach. He disliked this place. The air was thick with hopelessness and despair, reeking of human waste and rotting food. The smell clung to the inside of his nostrils long after he left, and Percival always felt like the air here left a coating of slime all over him.

His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked down the corridor, the torches on the wall flickering.

“General!” The soldier positioned by the cells Percival had been directed to jumped to attention and saluted. There were crumbs on his wrinkled uniform and the sour smell of wine on his breath.

Percival inclined his head. “I’m here to see a prisoner.”

At least the man knew better than to question it, or he simply didn’t care, because he fumbled the bunch of keys from his belt. The keys clattered together as he sifted through them until he found the one he wanted and unlocked the door.

“I won’t need an escort.” Percival said and breezed past the guard, descending the stairs down to the cells. About ten people were crowded in the second cell to the right, where Melville had told him Theseus Scamander was being held. Some of them looked up wearily when Percival stepped up to the iron bars, but most were sleeping or too lethargic to care.

Newt’s brother was thankfully easy to spot. He was broader in built, a true blacksmith, and his beard had grown out scraggly and uneven, but his eyes, staring inquisitively at Percival, were the same as Newt’s.

“Mister Scamander.” Percival inclined his head. “A word, if you please.”

Years of experience made Percival stand still with his head held high, holding the older Scamander’s gaze. The other man broke eye contact first and nodded, struggling to get to his feet. The shirt he wore looked tattered and as he stepped up to the bars Percival could see the bags beneath his eyes.

“What do you want?” Scamander asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “My statement has already been taken.”

“I know.” Percival nodded. He glanced around and stepped a little closer to the bars, lowering his voice. “I’m a friend of your brother.”

The man flinched and shuffled forward. “Newt? Is he alright?” The edge of tiredness and irritation had left his voice.

“He’s fine.” Percival nodded. “He’s been trying to find evidence to prove your innocence.”

Scamander raised an eyebrow at Percival. He was more guarded than his brother, though Percival couldn’t tell if the weariness had been born in prison or been there for much longer.

“He said you know something. About-“ Percival cast his gaze around once more and lowered his voice to a whisper that wouldn’t carry. “Grindelwald?”

Newt’s brother pressed his lips together tightly. He studied Percival and eventually shook his head.

“Why would I tell you anything? For all I know _he_ sent you and you’re doing this so they can add slander and treason to my charges.”

Considering that Newt was so open, Percival hadn’t expected his brother to be so closed off and careful. It was almost reassuring. With an attitude like that he would at least not get eaten alive by the other prisoners here.

“I suppose my word won’t be enough.”

The two man shared a wry smile and Scamander shook his head. “Gotta do better than that, General.”

“If I come with your brother, will you tell me what you know?”

The man’s struggle was clear in the way his breathing quickened and his eyes narrowed. Most likely he didn’t want to bring Newt to this place, didn’t wish for his brother to see him like this. And yet he had to know that this was most likely the only chance he’d get. In the end, Newt’s brother decided to grasp the straw that had been offered to him.

“Yes. If you bring Newt I will tell him what I know.”

“Very well.” Percival nodded. He took two bread rolls wrapped in a handkerchief out of the pocket of his coat and held them out to Scamander through the bars. “Not poisoned, I promise you. I figured the rations here left something to be desired.”

Scamander’s gaze flicked from the food to Percival’s face and back. His stomach grumbled, which only served to deepen his frown, displeased that his body was admitting weakness.

“Your brother’s dog is named Pickett, for what it’s worth. And he puts a disgusting amount of milk in his tea.”

The bread rolls were taken from his hand and Scamander nodded. “Thank you.”

Percival inclined his head and stepped back from the bars. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He turned on his heels and walked back up the stairs, eager to escape the cloying darkness, feeling marginally guilty that he could do so while Newt’s brother had to stay behind.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Disdainful yellow eyes glared at Percival as he stepped into the apartment, followed by a loud yowl. A raggedy cat darted away, leaving Percival to blink in disbelief.

“Tina?” He called as he walked towards the living room, scanning his surroundings for more furry intruders. He found Tina sitting in front of the fire with a book, her skin bathed golden by the firelight.

“You’re back late,” she said, carefully marking the page in her book before closing it.

“I had something to take care off.” Percival didn’t think it was necessary to tell Tina about his little trip to the Tower yet.

A crash from the hallway brought back his momentarily forgotten irritation.

“Why is there a cat in my apartment?”

“Mh? Oh, Newt found her outside and brought her in,” Tina replied, completely unperturbed by this turn of events.

“Right.” Percival wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with that information. Well, it would give him one more thing to talk about with Newt. “Is Newt in his room?”

“Yes.” Tina kept her gaze fixed on him for a second, but then she looked away, knowing him well enough to realise that Percival was in no mood to be answering questions.

The door to the blue room was a crack open when Percival arrived, Newt’s soft voice drifting over.

“You shouldn’t run away. I was very worried. Besides, you might get both of us into trouble.”

The smile came unbidden to Percival’s face and he firmly clamped down on it, trying his best to look stern. He spared half a second’s guilt to his enjoyment of making Newt squirm, before he knocked firmly on the door and stepped into the room. Another yowl and a startled _squeak_ from Newt followed, and it took every ounce of Percival’s self-control to keep his face carefully blank. Newt sat on the ground with wide eyes, his mouth open in surprise, and in his arms squirms the raggedy cat, trying to break free.

Percival allowed silence to settle over the room, wondering how long it’d take until it became to jarring and Newt broke it. The redhead was still starring up at him and faced with the rooms sudden stillness the cat had calmed, letting itself be held more easily.

“Uh…G-Good evening,” Newt stuttered out eventually, his gaze dropping.

“Good evening,” Percival replied smoothly, linking his arms behind his back as he waited for the scene to unfold. Newt’s cheeks had taken on a fetching shade of pink and the sight made something in Percival’s stomach tighten.

“I…uhm. That is to say. I was going to ask you, but you weren’t home yet, and, well,” Newt muttered before stopping to take a deep breath. “I found her out in the gardens and she was in a bad way and I couldn’t leave her. I promise to keep her in my room, she won’t be a bother to you at all.”

There was no word of Newt taking her back to where he found her, and when he raised his gaze the hopefulness in his eyes was underlined by iron-clad determination, a clear indicator that he was going to fight Percival, should he attempt to take the cat away.

“You might want to give her a bath,” Percival said after a few heartbeats of silence and the darkness vanished from Newt’s eyes as he looked down at the cat, a fond smile playing around the corners of his lips.

“I was planning to.”

The cat watched Percival with wary eyes as he moved to sit down in one of the armchairs, gesturing for Newt to take the other one. He’d feel better taking to Newt if he didn’t sit on the floor, looking up at Percival through his lashes.

“Have you named her yet?”

Newt moved to close the door before he gently sat the cat down on the floor. “Yes. Her name’s Niffler.”

It was a rather odd name but strangely fitting, and both men watched as Niffler threw them another disdainful look before curling up in front of the fireplace.

Percival waited until Newt had sat down before broaching the topic.

“I went to see your brother today.”

The change in posture was immediate, Newt’s spine snapping straight as his body coiled with tension. “W-what?”

“I went to see your brother. You said he might have incriminating information about Grindelwald and I thought it best to ask him myself,” Percival explained, his eyes drawn to the way Newt’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“H-How is he?” Newt’s voice had gone thin and his gaze was firmly fixed on his knees, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Considering the circumstances he’s well.” Percival wanted to reach out and take Newt’s hand, give him a form of physical reassurance, but he didn’t think it was his place to do so. “You can ensure yourself of his wellbeing tomorrow night.”

Newt’s gaze flitted up to Percival’s face, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

“He wouldn’t tell me anything. He was understandably distrustful, but agreed to tell you what he knows.”

The lines of Newt’s frown softened, but he kept himself guarded, his gaze returning to his knees. “And…and you’ll take me?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to? I understand, it’s not a nice place to visit and you have no obligation to, but-“

“Of course I’ll come,” Newt interrupted, his tongue tripping over the words. “Of course. I…I want to see him,” he added with more resolve, pulling his shoulders back.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up tomorrow evening, once her majesty doesn’t need me anymore.”

Newt nodded and exhaled unevenly. “Thank you. For believing me and…and for trying to help him.”

Percival nodded, any polite reply he had getting stuck in the back of his throat when Newt’s eyes met his again. They were unguarded and open, and Newt’s smile was almost secretive, the softest curl of lips that felt intimate.

“I can’t ever repay you for everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Percival rasped, thinking to himself that seeing Newt happy, his smiles stirring something deep inside Percival’s chest he’d almost forgotten, was payment enough.

***

“General, back so soon?” Melville asked. Like the air in the Tower he appeared cold and slimy, his beady eyes fixed on Percival as he leaned forward in his chair. He was the kind of man who delighted in exercising his power and making things difficult for others just because he could.

“So it would seem,” Percival replied, intent on getting past the man as quickly as possible.

“And who’s the civilian?” Melville leered at Newt, who awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You know I can’t let him in, General.”

Percival swallowed down a sigh and resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to be nice to Melville. He pasted on a smile as he turned back to the man and stepped closer.

“I was hoping you could do me a personal favour, Charles,” Percival said, dropping his voice and leaning in. People always responded better when they felt like you were sharing a secret with them. “I know that you are a man of duty, but you see, my valet here is the cousin of one of your prisoners. His mother passed away and I feel it would only be decent if a family member informed him of it.”

Melville’s gaze darted from Percival to Newt, his lips pursed in consideration.

“You would _really_ be helping me out, Charles, and I sure wouldn’t forget it,” Percival added, struggling to keep his smile in place when Melville’s attention returned to him, a spark in his eyes. Men like Melville were always greedy, collecting influential friends as they tried to fight their way up the social ladder. They were dangerous, but they also let their greed blind them easily.

“Well,” Melville leaned back in his chair, acting like he still had to think about it. “I’m a family man, so I understand the importance of the matter. I suppose I can make an exception for you, Percival.”

Percival dug his nails into his palms as he tried not to snarl and bare his teeth at the man. He called the importance of the matter to the forefront of his mind, reminded himself why he was doing this, and nodded his head gratefully at Melville. “Thank you. We won’t be long.”

As soon as he’d marched past Melville’s desk, Percival’s smile dropped and he exhaled sharply through his nose. Behind him Newt stumbled and Percival slowed down his pace to let the other man catch up. In the flickering lights of the torches Newt looked like a ghost, pale and wide-eyed, the flames reflecting in his pupils. His nervous energy was like a buzzing in the air and Percival reached out for Newt’s hand, squeezing it. Newt’s palm was sweaty and his fingers twitched against Percival’s, but he squeezed back and exhaled slowly.

“It’ll be fine,” Percival murmured as he let go and Newt gave him a weak smile.

The guard on duty by Theseus’ cellblock was a different one today, not asking any questions when Percival told him they needed to speak to a prisoner. As they descended the stairs Percival saw Newt bringing up his sleeve to his nose, his throat working to hold back a gag.

“Breathing through your mouth makes it easier,” Percival said without stopping. Best to get it over with.

Theseus Scamander was sat in much the same position as the day before, but unlike the day before he scrambled to his feet quickly when they stepped up to the bars.

“Newt!” His breathless whisper was met with a soft keening noise low in Newt’s throat as the man rushed forward, hands wrapping around the bars.

“Theseus!”

Theseus’ hands came up to cover Newt’s and for a few seconds the brothers looked at each other, saying more to each other in a split second with their eyes than they could’ve with words. Percival averted his gaze, studying the dripping walls and the dirty straw on the ground. As much as he tried, he couldn’t help overhearing their conversation though.

“That beard looks ridiculous,” Newt whispered, his voice trembling like he was torn between laughing and crying.

“I think it rather fits my life as a criminal. Besides, not all of us can look as prim and proper as you do.”

Newt huffed and ducked his head, like the new clothes he was wearing were cause for embarrassment.

“Are you alright, brother?” All traces of humour were gone from Theseus’ voice.

“I’m fine. I…Percival helped me out a lot.”

The weight of the Scamander brothers looking at him was heavy and Percival could hardly pretend to find the floor interesting for much longer. Dragging his gaze up he met two sets of eyes. Newt quickly looked away whereas Theseus’ lips twitched, like he _knew_ something Percival didn’t.

“Percival said he’d try to help, but you need to tell us what you know,” Newt said and after Theseus gave a brief nod, Percival stepped up to them.

“I don’t know much, but-“ Theseus looked over his shoulder to make sure none of the other prisoners had stepped up to them. Leaning in even closer he lowered his voice to a barely discernible whisper. “I was at the Nurmengard, meeting some friends. Was taking the back entrance out because Miss Jennifer had just come in.” The brothers shared an exasperated look. “Anyway. I happened to hear somebody whispering, and curiosity got the better of me. The door to one of the backrooms was a tad open and would you believe it, there sits the Archbishop and I think it was the princess. Can’t be sure though, both of them were dressed in street clothes and it was rather dark. He’d just handed her a hefty bag of money, said it was ‘payment for the boy’. Then they talked about a plan and how it should be done by Christmas, so the princess could be crowned in the new year. They didn’t go into any detail, but I think it’s safe to say they’re not planning anything good.”

Percival’s heart hammered in his chest and his breathing sounded far too loud to his own ears. “No, nothing good at all.” It sounded like they were planning an attempt on Seraphina’s life. “Did you hear anything more?”

“No,” Theseus shook his head. “I tried to get closer, but the floorboards creaked.”

Newt winced and Theseus rolled his eyes. “I know. I tried playing it off as being a drunk guy looking for the lavatory, but since I’m here they obviously didn’t buy the act.”

Percival tried to order his spinning thoughts. He’d expected a little dirty business, if he was lucky Grindelwald hooking up with a prostitute, not an attempt on the Queen’s life. “Thank you for your help.”

Theseus nodded. “Thank you for looking out for my brother.”

The sound of keys jangling echoed through the air, speaking of the guard’s impatience.

“We’ll get you out of here,” Newt promised, reaching for his brother. “Stay safe, please?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Percival nodded his head before he turned, giving the brothers a few more seconds to say goodbye as he slowly walked back upstairs, already wondering how the hell he was going to deal with this mess.

***

“So we need to find out exactly what it is the Archbishop’s planning.”

“Yes.” Percival pinched the bridge of his nose. Tina made it sound like a walk in the park. “Now if you could tell me how exactly we’re going to do that, I’ll be forever indebted to you, Tina.”

“No need to get snippy,” Tina huffed and took a sip of tea. “I mean, obviously you’re out. He hates your guts.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Percival muttered.

“And he knows I’m your housekeeper, so he won’t tell me anything by default. So that leaves…Queenie and Newt,” Tina deducted.

Niffler, now bathed and groomed, jumped up into Percival’s lap and curled up. For some reason entirely beyond Percival, she’d taken a liking to him and he found himself absently petting her as he wondered how they were going to get any information on Grindelwald’s plans.

“He doesn’t know me, I could try and…pretend that I’m…trying to be a better catholic?” Newt suggested.

“You’re not even convincing me right now, you’re not going to convince him.”

“I wasn’t trying right now!”

“Would you two stop it,” Percival groaned, rubbing his temples. It had been a very long day and this new knowledge about a planned attempt on Seraphina’s life was only intensifying his headache. He had to up security in a way that wasn’t going to be immediately apparent, and he had to cover all bases, in case Grindelwald struck unexpectedly.

Anxiety was twisting and turning in Percival’s stomach and not even Niffler’s purring calmed it down. It felt more and more like he couldn’t breathe and his thoughts escaped his grasping fingers, leaving his head a mess of noise.

“I’ll think of something,” he sighed as he lifted Niffler off his lap and got up, leaving the room without another word. He needed some air.

***

Newt tried to walk with his spine straight, like he belonged, not like he was sneaking. Technically he wasn’t _sneaking,_ he just wasn’t sure if Percival would appreciate Newt striking out on his own. He’d said he would think of something, yes, but Newt hadn’t been able to get any sleep, his thoughts spiralling around Theseus stuck in that horrible place.

He’d been restless and antsy and there was nothing for him to do in the apartment with Percival gone and Tina refusing help with her work, so Newt had decided to take a look around. Of course he wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d find out anything about Grindelwald’s plans, but he could find out something about the surroundings. Besides, Newt had never been the type of person to make elaborate plans. He was more of a ‘let’s see what happens’ kinda guy, something Theseus was forever on his case about. Theseus and Percival should get along splendidly, both of them were the overly prepared kind.

After a few wrong turns Newt eventually found the chapel. On Sunday it had been filled with life as the crowds took their seats. Now Newt shivered and pulled his shoulders up higher. The large statues seemed to loom over him, their painted eyes following Newt as he walked down the aisle. It felt like beneath the echoes of his boots there were whispers in the air, laughter drifting over from the shadows.

The light filtering in through the stained glass windows was muddy and dulled the gold, making it look cheap and worn. Newt thought the saints depicted in the intricate paintings didn’t look merciful at all. Rather they appeared haughty and aloof, looking down and judging the poor sinners walking past them.

Quite possibly Newt was biased, not being very religious himself. Their parents had taken him and Theseus to church on Sundays, but that was about the extent of their religious education. Once they’d died Theseus had been too busy and Newt had stopped going. He was tainted after all, condemned in the eyes of God if the priests were to be believed. What place did he have among those struggling to be holy?

A soft rasping sound pulled Newt out of his thoughts. He slowed his steps and looked around, his gaze roaming over empty pews. Finally, up by the altar he caught a shadow of movement. Stepping closer it revealed itself to be a boy on his knees, scrubbing the floor. He must’ve been at it for hours, his hands a painful red. The black clothes he wore were tattered and shabby, not providing any kind of protection against the chill and the cold rising from the marble floor. When he raised his gaze and looked at Newt his eyes were round, pupils blown wide in fear.

“Hullo,” Newt waved awkwardly. It was too late to slip away unseen, so he might as well make the most of this. The boy sat back on his haunches with wince, his back and shoulders most likely aching. He reminded Newt of the starved youths in the streets who’d been moving in the shadows, balancing on the thin line where they had too much to die but too little to live. They existed, and the blank look that settled over the boy’s face after the initial panic spoke of that same bleak way of being.

“Is there something you need, sir?” The boy asked, his gaze settling on Newt’s boots. His voice sounded rusty and scratchy from disuse.

“No, no I was just…having a look around,” Newt replied, tugging on the sleeves of his coat. He still felt self-conscious in the new wardrobe Percival had insisted he needed, like he was playing dress-up in finery that wasn’t meant for him.

The boy nodded and went back to scrubbing the floor. Newt felt rather uncomfortable standing there and watching him, but simply walking away seemed a mean thing to do.

“What’s your name?”

The boy glanced up but didn’t stop in his task. “Credence, sir.”

“Credence. Please call me Newt.” Newt tried for a smile but it fell flat when faced with Credence’s short nod. “So, do you…work in the palace?”

Credence shook his head and rubbed more harshly at a spot. “I belong to the Archbishop.”

The phrasing struck Newt as strange and he frowned. “Oh right, I remember you. You’re one of the altar servers?”

Credence nodded. His knuckles stood out white as he gripped the brush tighter.

“That sounds like a rather…interesting occupation. Have you been serving for long?” Newt tried.

“A few weeks, sir.”

The boy wasn’t likely to be very close to the Archbishop then, but enough of an in that he might be useful.

“Are you enjoying it?”

Credence nodded, though Newt thought his shoulders fell inwards even more.

“Credence! Who’re you talking to?”

Both, Credence and Newt, snapped to attention at the sharp voice cutting through the air. For a second Credence looked at Newt with barely concealed terror, his eyes pleading. Newt wasn’t sure what it was the boy was asking for, and his mouth went cotton dry as he spotted the Archbishop walking towards them.

“My apologies, sir, has Credence been keeping you? He isn’t quite used to life at court yet.” Grindelwald’s smile was like a shark’s, displaying his teeth like he was snarling.

“N-no, not at all, your highness,” Newt mumbled, frantically wondering if he was supposed to bow. “I was merely having a look around and Credence…Credence was nice enough to answer some of my questions about the chapel.”

Credence shot him a grateful look and Newt hoped that his voice hadn’t been shaking too much.

“Ah. Yes, young Credence here is very interested in matters of the church.”

Newt’s stomach churned as Grindelwald walked past Credence and petted the boy’s head as if he was nothing more than a dog.

“Are you new around here then, Mister…”

“Uh.” Under Grindelwald’s sharp stare Newt’s mind almost pulled a blank. “Fido…Fido Diggory, your highness.”

“I’ve never heard of you, Mister Diggory.” Grindelwald’s smile sharpened, the corners of his eyes tightening.

“No, ah, you wouldn’t have. I’m…new,” Newt gulped, struggling to keep his spine straight. He hated that the man he despised so much reduced him to a stuttering mess so easily.

“And you are…” Grindelwald prompted.

“I’m…General Graves’ valet,” Newt mumbled. Lies had short legs and lying about his position surely would end him in trouble sooner rather than later. Then again, the fake name seemed like a really bad idea, now that Grindelwald knew his position. Newt swallowed, trying not to run away in a panic because of the mess he’d created.

“Interesting.”

The way Grindelwald said it made Newt feel like he’d presented himself to the man on a silver platter.

“Speaking off, I really should be going back to work,” Newt said, taking a step back and smiling awkwardly. “Have a good day, your highness. Credence.”

“Good day, Mister Diggory. I hope to be seeing you around again soon.”

Newt twitched his lips into another awkward smile before he turned and hurried from the chapel, his heart fighting to break through his ribs in its panic.

***

“You did what?!”

Newt flinched. He’d expected Percival wouldn’t be pleased, but he hadn’t expected Percival to get this angry. He was staring at Newt with dark eyes, his heavy brows furrowed, and Newt could see a vein on the side of Percival’s neck pulsing. His own blood was rushing in his hears and Newt curled his shaking hands into fists. Sitting here and having Percival look at him like this made him feel small and stupid, like he was a child getting lectured.

“I…uh.”

“And you _spoke_ to him and told him you’re my valet?”

“Yes, but, uh, I didn’t give him my real name?” Newt tried with a tentative smile. Percival’s nostrils flared and Newt quickly ducked his head again.

“Oh really? Now that’s helpful!” Percival’s words were soaked in sarcasm and he resumed his pacing of the room, looking much like a caged tiger ready to strike.

“But, uhm, Credence might be the boy they talked about?” Newt wasn’t done trying to salvage the situation, grasping at straws to try and find something, anything to distract and calm Percival down.

“Probably.” Came the reply through gritted teeth.

Newt’s heart sunk even further. “I’m really sorry.”

Percival huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “You should be, you might’ve ruined any chance we had at getting your brother out. Don’t you think he’s going to make the connection?” he bit out before he left the room, the door banging shut behind him.

Dropping his head into his hands Newt pressed his eyes shut, struggling to keep hot tears from spilling. He’d really, really messed this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter :) I'm struggling a little with writer's block at the moment, trying to improve but feeling like I can't get it right (can I blame that on being sick messing with my brain?). So any and all feedback is very welcome!
> 
> ♥


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